Heart Like A Grave
by TheStrangeAndBeautiful
Summary: House was right and Cameron can not be that good a person and well adjusted. Snippets of their life as too much sickness and death surrounding Cameron, begins to wear her down. And all House can do is watch and diagnose from afar. House/Cameron.
1. Chapter 1

House/ Cameron. Friendship/ romance.  
Romance/ Angst/ Hurt / Comfort.  
I do not own House M.D. or any of the other characters etc.

_

* * *

_The locker room was dingy compared to the fluorescently lit corridors. He found her sitting on the bench, picking flowers out of a bouquet in her lap and crushing the petals.

'Wrong colour?' He asked, his sarcasm bouncing; unappreciated off of the cold tile walls.

'They're from a patient's mother.'

'And you're destroying them because…?'

'The Patient- Nick- died.'

'Before or after the unappreciated gift of flowers.'

'Before.' He was interested now and she hated him for that. But she continued- like she always did.

'She told me it wasn't my fault. Thanked me for doing all I could.'

'Nice to be appreciated.' He filled the silence. She scowled, standing up stiffly and tossing the rest of the bouquet into the bin.

'I go away for a week and look what happens.' She was fiddling with her locker, her fragile frame no longer upright and sure of itself.

'How was the conference?' She asked, voice hollow.

'I don't know.' He was encouraged and ducked further into the room. 'The bar was good though.' But his joke reached a tired mind. He frowned as she dry swallowed some pills before shutting her locker door and turning to face him.

'Headache?' He asked.

'Sure.' She gave him a slightly bitter smile before leaving the room.

He eyed her locker curiously.

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_Thank you for reading. I would be very grateful for reviews. _


	2. Chapter 2

Her fingers were smudged with red ink. He wished it was black so it didn't look quite so disturbing. She liked the how dramatic it looked but scrubbed her hands clean anyway.

'More files.' He tossed another pile onto the table and then placed a black biro beside them along with a candy bar.

She wondered idly if this was because he didn't want it or of it was because he'd noticed her increasingly baggy jumpers. She wanted to know but wouldn't ask.


	3. Chapter 3

'Accident?' He asked, voice cutting into her day dream. She glanced up at his eyes; they were bright with knowledge and an irritating curiosity. She followed their gaze to her upper arm where a band-aid was stuck neatly, an equally neat line of red seeping through. She remembered taking off her jacket and was bored with her own stupidity.

'Of course.' She shrugged reaching for her coffee.

'Let's hope it doesn't happen again.'

'Let's.'


	4. Chapter 4

There was a hesitant knocking on his door. He sighed, took another sip of scotch, reached for his cane and pulled himself to his feet. He walked stiffly across the hard wooden flooring and pulled the door open without bothering to look through the spy-hole. He knew that knock. The porch was empty and he returned to his couch, wondering if he'd taken so long to answer simply because he was stubborn or because he was hoping she would have lost her nerve and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

_**One may think  
we're alright  
But we need pills  
to sleep at night  
We need lies  
to make it through the day  
We're not ok**_

'Sleeping pills aren't good to become dependent on.'

'You've got to stop pulling my medical records.'

'I didn't – good guess is all.' He walked around to her front, hoping to catch an expression on her face or in her eyes but failing.

'What's going on?'

''It's pretty self explanatory… _sleeping_ pi…'

'I mean why the need for them?'

'None of your business.'

'Why not?'

She was stumped now and he was pleased with himself.

'You're my boss, not my Doctor or…'

'What about if I'm a friend?'

'You're not.'

'What if I was?'

'Do you want to be?'

'Hypothetically.'

He'd caught an expression that time. Hope. But it dissolved faster than it had appeared. He was too weary to hide his guilt.

* * *

Lyrics- The Perishers - Pills.


	6. Chapter 6

She felt threatened by everything. Chase's attempt at making her laugh. The clock over her head in every room.  
She looked for solace in an empty hallway and found it almost near impossible to pull herself out of her bed each morning.  
She was incapable of making decisions and agreed with anything and everything House said -deciding its was the easiest option.  
She found herself pulling a knife out of her kitchen draw and realised she hadn't had food in the apartment for weeks.  
She contemplated leaving the hospital but his strong gaze kept her from writing the necessary letter.  
That and her lack of energy.


	7. Chapter 7

She traced the raindrops as they ran down the window. She was curled awkwardly into the chair in the corner of the patient's room. The patient whose name she found herself repeating over in her mind. The chart slid off her lap and clattered to the floor.

Her handwriting had changed. It had become as messy as her mind.

She had cut her hair short – too busy merely surviving to look after it.

His bright blue eyes were sick of analysing her.

He wondered how skin could become so translucent.

'Surprisingly, depression isn't making you a hazard to patients.' His cane tapped relentlessly on the freshly mopped floor. 'But it's making you a hazard to yourself.'

She was pained at having to interact with anyone. Let alone him.


	8. Chapter 8

'Accidents keep happening.' He stood beside her. She pulled on her lab coat.

'Patients keep dying.' Was her simple reply; her voice as thin as paper.

He was constantly wondering about her- his mind ached more than his leg and he wished he'd never met and hired her but enjoyed the beauty of her mystery all the same. He found her tragic yet flawless. He couldn't blame her. He couldn't comfort her.

She was like a child who'd drunk too much cough medicine- sickly sweet and over medicated. The cough still remaining.


End file.
